It's a shame to allow a god
by cornwallace
Summary: W h a t ? !


**Dedicated to all fanfiction.  
**

* * *

It was a night like any other night.  
Well, not really, but whatever.  
It actually started off pretty average, I suppose. I woke up, had like six shots of vodka, jerked off, took a piss, ate one of those sample boxes of cereal, washed it down with more vodka, and went to work.  
On the way in, I'm thinking, oh shit, I forgot to brush my teeth. Whatever. Doesn't matter.

There are a million things I could be doing right now. A million places I could be going.  
I could be drinking. I could be jerking off. I could be taking a shit. I could be watching Tv. I could be going to the bar. I could be going to the titty bar. I could be low balling some fat whore for a hummer.  
But no. I'm jamming the key into my office lock.  
Force the fucker in there and turn to the right. Satisfying click signals me to turn it back the way it came and withdraw the key from the knob.  
Turn and push to enter my sanctuary.  
My living hell.  
The phone's already ringing, but I don't care. Just walk to the desk and sit down in my shitty chair that the wheels keep falling off of.  
Open the right-hand bottom drawer to retrieve the half-gallon of vodka I had stashed away for... well, drinking, actually. No special occasion. Just to drink.  
You tend to forget how shitty your life is when your loaded. Well, not really. But at least you're loaded, so I suppose none of it matters.  
Take a couple of hits straight from the bottle, the shitty built-in, plastic pourer already torn out and deposited in a trashcan somewhere. Set the bottle down on my desk and fish a smoke out from an open pack. Stuff it into the corner of my mouth, and strike a match, igniting my sweet vacation.  
Inhale.  
Exhale.  
Knowing this will more than likely kill me sometime in the distant future makes me feel better about being alive. The phone finally stops ringing, and with my free hand, I draw the revolver from it's holster at my hip. Release the cylinder and empty it. Stuff one bullet back into the weapon and close it.  
Spin.  
Thumb the hammer back and there's a knock at the door.  
The cold barrel of the gun meets the side of my head.  
The door opens.  
Click.  
Staring at me with a confused look on his face is a black hedgehog. Looks like a poor recolor of Sonic, which is to say, he looks exactly the fucking same as Sonic only with a darker color scheme.

"Hello, sir!" I say, placing the gun down on my desk. "What can I do you for?"  
"You just had your gun to your head..."  
"What? Oh. Yeah. That."  
"Why?"  
"I like to play Russian Roulette sometimes. Is that going to be a problem?"  
"Only if you want your money up front."  
"Fuck."  
"Why did you ignore my call?"  
"What call?"  
"I just called you."  
"Oh. Well, I must have missed it. I just got in, you know."  
"I do know. I could see you sitting at your desk from the payphone I called you from."  
"Oh. Well. Shit."  
"I have a very important job for you, Nack. The question is; can I trust you?"  
"You can rely on me, sir. I'm the man for the job. How much does it pay?"  
"A lot."  
"A lot?"  
"A lot."  
"Like, a lot, a lot? "  
"Uh... sure."  
"How much is a lot?"  
"Enough to retire from this dead-end job of yours."  
"Hm. Sounds sexy. I'll take the case!"  
"Good. I actually like the idea of you not caring about your life. This job is dangerous. But I can't have you killing yourself before the job is done. So, no Russian Roulette until after, yes?"  
"Yeah, sure."  
"Your word on that?"  
"Yes indeedy."  
"Right. I'm sure you're familiar with Sonic the Hedgehog."  
"Who isn't?"  
"My point exactly. I want him dead."  
"Sonic? You want me to plug Sonic?"  
"Quietly, Nack. Let's discuss this quietly."  
"Sonic? Why Sonic?"  
"I have my reasons."  
"Okay. So you must have some kind of plan. How the fuck am I supposed to kill the hedgehog?"  
"Simple, my dear boy. The element of surprise. You see, I cannot kill him myself, for-"  
"Why?"  
"I'm getting to that, weasel. Don't interrupt me."  
"Nack."  
"The point is that Sonic would see me coming a mile away. His guard would be up. I can't be anywhere near him when the assassination takes place."  
"You know what they say about assassination, right?"  
"What?"  
"It takes two asses to make an assassination. Haha."  
"Malarkey not appreciated."  
"Ahem. Noted."  
"Good. Now, I don't want any fuckups, you hear?"  
"Hey, god damn it. I'm fucking this chicken. You just hold it."  
"What does that even mean?"  
"Don't worry about it. Do you think I could get an advance?"  
"No."  
"Oh well. Bummer may Horus, as they say."  
"It's a shame to allow a god?"  
"It is, indeed."  
"Right. Uh. I'll contact you with more information soon. Answer your phone next time. I'll be watching."

He gets up. Turns to leave. I find myself digging through my desk for a cigarette.

"Hold on a second," I say, lighting the smoke tucked between my lips. "What's your name?"  
"Call me Shadow," he says, closing the door behind him.

And that was that.

* * *

It was on the corner of fourth and grandeur that I saw the poor little shit being mugged.  
It's after dark. Probably somewhere around ten or eleven. I don't know. I don't wear a watch, and I don't give a fuck.  
Three kids. Self-proclaimed badasses, I'm sure. The kind of kid that picks under something weaker than it to feel good about itself. Loaded with all kinds of insecurity problems, I'm sure.  
Either way, it doesn't matter.  
Was on my way back from getting smokes. Now I'm out to teach these punks a lesson.  
Three of them. Harassing a little girl that looks oddly familiar.  
Before they can react, I'm on them. The barrel of my gun meets the back of the fat pig's head that's holding the little girl by the arms so the other two can harass him.  
Falls to the pavement, with the girl.  
Point the gun at the face of the goon on my right.

"Scram. Both of you."

Without saying a word, they both comply.  
Pick the fallen punk up by the fur on his head and shake him a bit.  
Hold him close.  
Point the gun to his head.

"If you wanna live to see tomorrow, you better fucking make like a dumb teenage girl in highschool what made one too many bad decisions by fucking some guy she had never even met before after having one too many plastic beers only, in which only god knows what was dropped in, and trusting a complete stranger on his word that he would pull out because he didn't have a condom, and as he claims, was completely STD free."  
"What?"  
"Abort."  
"What?"  
"Get the fuck out of here, you fat fuck!"

Let him go, and he starts to run off.  
Kick him in his fat ass, as he stumbles away, squealing into the night.

"Revenge is sweet, huh, little girl?"  
"I'm not a gi-... wait, Nack?"

Turn to the little turd getting up, and suddenly I remember where I recognized the little girl from. It was that dyke that helped me out with the Gary Stu/Mary Sue case!

"You! The mutant! Wow, I didn't ever think I'd see you again."  
"You saved me!"  
"Yeah! Yeah, I guess I did."  
"And to think, I thought you were a loser."  
"I, uh... thanks?"  
"Can I come with you?"  
"I don't know, kid. Got money?"  
"A little?"  
"Sure. Why not? I'm in the middle of a very important case. I may need a hand to crack it."  
"Wow!"  
"Say, how old are you, little girl?"  
"I'm not a girl. And I'm twelve."  
"Yeah, yeah, dyke or not, you're gonna be getting your tits, soon. You ever think about crossing over to the other side?"  
"You're a very strange person, Mister Weasel."  
"Nack. The name is Nack."  
"Sorry, sir."  
"Sure thing, freak."  
"Tails. It's Tails."  
"Whatever."

* * *

Pour a shot into the novelty glass on the desk before me.  
Nod to the kid in the seat across from me.

"You want a shot, kid?"  
"Oh, no. I learned my lesson last time, sir."  
"Oh well. More for me. And you know what they say."  
"Bummer may Horus?"  
"No. Well, yeah. But no. Not this time."  
"What do they say, Nack?"  
"I love blowjobs."  
"What's a blowjob?"  
"Something you won't ever give and can't ever get."  
"What does that mean?"  
"It's a guy thing. And a whore thing."  
"A whore?"  
"A whore is like a slut, only less attractive and more expensive."  
"You confuse me sometimes, sir."  
"You're already confused. It's part of your dykish nature."  
"I'm not a dyke!"  
"Swingin' over to the poll, eh? Come back when ya got tits."  
"What does that mean?"  
"I'll tell you when you grow some boobs."  
"But I'm not gonna-"  
"You sure you don't want a shot, kid?"  
"Yes sir."  
"You do?"  
"I don't."  
"Come on, kid. Take a shot."  
"Nah, I'm okay."  
"Do it."  
"No, thanks."  
"I know you want to."  
"I'd really rather not."  
"What kind of dyke don't drink?"  
"I'm not a dyke."  
"Ah, yes. Straightening yourself out. I understand."  
"What?"  
"Take a shot, kid."  
"No."  
"Don't you wanna be like me when you grow up?"  
"Not anymore, no. Not after you abandoned me."  
"That's harsh, kid. I left you a few ones for the stripper."  
"You left me six quarters."  
"I didn't have to do that, did I? Or buy you a beer."  
"You drank my beer."  
"You didn't want it!"  
"That stuff was nasty."  
"See? Point. Mine. That. Now, drink up."  
"That stuff is nasty, too."  
"Drink it anyway. It'll put hair on your snatch."  
"My... snatch?"  
"Yeah. Your cunt."  
"What?"  
"Pussy."  
"My cat? It will put hair on my cat?"  
"You know. Your box."  
"What box?"  
"Your clam, kid."  
"The kind you eat?"  
"Yeah, sure. You could do that. I never do, though. Stinks down there."  
"I'm not really sure what you're talking about, sir."  
"Look kid, I'm talking about your vagina."  
"I don't have a va-"

It's at this point, I stop listening to her.  
Pick up the shot glass and knock it back myself.  
Mmm, sweet artificial comfort.  
You know what they say.  
I love blowjobs.  
Oh well. Bummer may Horus.

"Hello?"  
"What?"  
"Nack? Are you listening to me?"  
"Yeah, of course. No, not really."  
"Ugh."  
"Calm down, kid. Have another drink."  
"I didn't have one to begin with."  
"Well, it's about time you started, kid! You're falling behind!"

Pour another shot and slide it his way.  
He just stares at me.  
I'm still pretty sure this kid is retarded.

"What?"

* * *

"Nack?"

The phone's ringing, while I'm being shaken.  
Name being whispered into my ear.  
Morning already?  
My head hurts so hard.  
Not sure which of these I noticed first.  
Open my eyes, and it's the dyke.  
I seemed to have passed out at my desk again.

"Someone's calling.."  
"I hear it."

I want to choke the phone and smash the dyke.  
Uh. Or the other way around.  
Whatever.  
It doesn't matter. None of this matters.  
Pick up the phone and listen for a few seconds. Always make them speak first. It instills dominance early on.

"Cut the shit, Nack, I know you're there."  
"Who's this?"  
"Shadow. I was wondering when you were going to wake up. I got tired of waiting."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"A bit too much to drink last night, Mister Weasel?"

Look out the window to see a dark figure standing in the phone booth below.  
Fuck.  
I need blinds.

"How can you even see clearly from down there?"  
"This information is irrelevant, Nack. But here's what you need to know. In the corner on the right side of the window from where you're sitting, there is a black rifle case. Do you see it."

Turn my head to the right.  
Holy shit.

"I see it."  
"Good. I trust you can figure out how to use it?"  
"Yeah. Sure."  
"Good. Today is the day, Nack. I need you to listen very carefully. Sonic will be conducting a speech out in front of city hall. I've written the address down of the sniper's nest you'll use and put it in the top drawer in your desk. You need to be there by six, do you understand?"  
"Uh huh."  
"You have one shot. You can't fuck this up."  
"Yeah, yeah."  
"If he is dead by six-thirty, you will get ten million mobiums."  
"No shit?"  
"Keep it down, Nack. Keep it together. We'll be watching."

Click.  
The fucker hung up on me, so I hang up on him.  
But ten million mobiums. Holy shit.  
All I have to do is kill the hog.

* * *

Throw the rifle case over my shoulder, tightening and securing the strap.  
Fold up the address and stuff it into my inside coat pocket.  
Take a swig of vodka.

"Where are you going?"  
"Doesn't matter. Your job is to hold down the fort."  
"My job? Does that mean I'm getting paid?"  
"Yes, my dear girl! You're getting paid with something much better than stupid old cash!"  
"What?"  
"Experience, lass. That's something you can't buy with pocket dollars."  
"What if you took a training course?"  
"That's not the same thing. Look, kid, I can't have you second guessing me all the time. You look up to me, right?"  
"No, not really."  
"Well, you're going to have to trust me anyway. The real question is; can I trust you?"  
"Yeah."  
"Good. Because, I'll be watching."  
"No you won't."  
"You make a good point, kid. But still. Uh. Don't fuck me, here?"  
"Ew, gross."  
"So, you ARE still into chicks?"  
"I've always been into chicks!"  
"I knew it!"  
"You're weird..."  
"I haven't the time for this, lass. I've got business to tend to."  
"I'm a BOY!"

The door closes behind me and I'm on the way down the hall towards the flight of stairs I'm takin' to the sweet life.  
I'm gonna be filthy fucking rich, and life isn't going to suck so hard anymore.  
Badass.

* * *

On my way to the nest, I keep thinking about all the cool shit I'm going to buy with my earnings.  
Just think; Nack the bounty hunter, finally in the big leagues. I'll be drinkin' in style, only the finest for me. Patron, Crown, Grey Goose. My mouth is watering. Cartons of cigarettes. Only the highest, classiest whores will be swingin' from my nuts.  
I might even get a car, or something. I'll own a house and not have to deal with the landlord that speaks poor English and screams a lot.  
Yes, life kicks ass.  
I'm about to hop on the gravy train. The gravy train with biscuit wheels. Headed towards the sweet life on the mashed potato express.  
Checking the paper again, looking for the street name.  
Carnesworth. And I'm onnn... Johnson?  
Fuck.  
Which way is Carnesworth from Johnson?  
Look around for available citizens to aide me in my travels.  
On the adjacent corner stands a pig.  
A police officer. But he's also a pig.  
That's just sweet irony, right there.

"Excuse me, officer?"  
"Yes?"  
"Do you know how to get to Carnesworth avenue from here?"  
"What's that on your back?"  
"What?"  
"Is that a rifle case?"  
"No sir."  
"It looks like a rifle case."  
"Okay, well it is. I'm going hunting."  
"Right now?"  
"Sure."  
"Than what do you need to get to Carnesworth for?"  
"I'm meeting a friend there."  
"To go hunting?"  
"Yeah. We're going to hop in his truck and hit the old dusty trail up to the mountains. Kill us some bears."  
"You're hunting... bears?"  
"Yes. The big fuckers."  
"Why on earth are you hunting bears?"  
"Well, they taste good. And you can make a killing with the taxidermy you can get out of those things."  
"Taxidermy?"  
"Yes. Well, there's a lot you can do with the pelts on those fuckers. The teeth, too."  
"And you can make a killing from that?"  
"Oh, definitely."  
"Is it easy?"  
"What? Are you kidding? No! It's killing bears for god's sake! I've unloaded round after round into the face of the bear with nary a flinch. They just keep coming, man. Thick skulls. Go try it. When you got a bear on top of you and you're all out of ammunition, with nothing but a combat knife and the smell of your own shit left, you can ask yourself; 'is this an easy job?' and the answer will be no. It's not an easy job."  
"And how did you get out of a situation like that?"  
"Well, first I jammed the knife into his windpipe. No easy feat. Took every last ounce of my manliness to achieve. Then I forced it's eyes into it's brain with my thumbs. The poor bastard was blinded, flailing around, making this gurgling, roaring sound. I just kinda waited there, lying completely still until it wore itself out and bled too much. Just kinda keeled over and died."  
"That's some story."  
"You know it."  
"Well, Carnesworth alley is two streets that way and to the left. Just read the signs. Hard to miss."  
"Thanks."  
"One more thing, sir."  
"Yeah?"  
"Why did you lie?"  
"Lie?"  
"Yeah, you told me it wasn't a rifle case at first."  
"Oh. Yeah. That."  
"So, why did you lie?"  
"To avoid the truth."  
"Huh."  
"Yep."  
"I like you, sir. What's your name?"  
"Nack. I gotta go. I'm gonna be late. Goodbye, pig."  
"It's officer Reynolds."  
"Whatever."

* * *

Dilapidated building is abandoned.  
I suppose this is why it's the perfect nest.  
Let's hope that I have a good view from up there.  
Search my surroundings very briefly before walking through the front door. It's dark in here. Produce my lighter, and flip it over and flick the wheel. Soft orange glow dimly illuminates the room.  
The stairs are ahead of me.  
Moment of truth.

* * *

At the top floor, there's a string I struggle to locate in the darkness somewhere dangling from the ceiling. It brushes against my fingertips, and I grasp it and tug downward hard. Door creaks open, and ladder comes falling down on top of me. Compose myself and begin ascension in into the attic.  
Large room, riddled with junk and spider webs. An insane amount.  
Fuck.  
I bet a lot of them are extremely poisonous, too. This place looks as though it hasn't been touched in ages.  
Spiders freak me out.  
Oh well. I try to think about the heaps of monies I'll be swimming in once this whole ordeal is over and done with.  
Before me a window, wooden shutters sunlight breaks through. Looks like that's my vantage point.  
Carefully make my way to the end of the room, dodging spider webs and the like.  
Stop just short of the window, and remove the rifle case from my back.  
Unzip it, and remove the weapon. Search for rounds. Must already be loaded. Cock and lean it against my shoulder as I carefully open the window.  
City hall surrounded by all the little people.  
Can't make out much.  
Look through the scope, and skim the crowd.  
The podium.  
There he is, standing at the podium, gesturing wildly. Behind him, the princess. Holy shit. Sally? Actually making a public appearance for once?  
Strange.  
Zoom in a bit and center crosshairs on our little blue "hero."  
It's my time to shine.  
Breathe in.  
Steady...  
Hold my breath.  
Steady...  
Fire.  
The gun kicks and the window behind him shatters.  
FUCK!  
He turns his head to look.  
Oh fuck.  
Lower the weapon.  
Cock it.  
Raise it once more.  
Briefly search for Sonic.  
Steady.  
Aim...  
His head caves in...  
But...  
I didn't..  
Pull..  
The...  
Trigger...  
Suddenly, Sally is doubling over, clutching her throat, spitting out blood.  
Leaking through her fingers out onto her white vest.  
Holy shit...  
What the fuck is going on here.  
Once again, I lower the weapon. It slips out from between my trembling fingers and clatters to the floor. Dropping to my knees to retrieve it, in the sunlight, I can make out not one, no, but three shell casings. All the exact same.  
What is this?  
Grabbing the weapon, I jump to my feet and crudely stuff it back into the case. Spinning around I sprint for the ladder. Hurry down it and start running down the stairs. One miscalculated sends me barreling down to the first floor.  
Scramble to my feet.  
Bolt in the direction of the door, arms out in front of me.  
Hands blindly grasping and groping for the knob as it meets with the door.  
Daylight washes over me, and I cheese it.

* * *

Dash into a nearby alleyway.  
Out of breath.  
Dive behind a dumpster.  
Hyperventilating.  
Look around.  
Don't see anyone.  
Remove the rifle case from my shoulder.  
I need to dispose of this.  
Yes. Evidence. I need to get rid of the weapon.  
I toss it into the dumpster. It's not traceable, right? How could it be?  
Close the lid.  
Look around.  
Coast looks clear.  
Make my way out of the alleyway and calmly walk down the street.  
I'll be okay. Nobody knows it was me. There's no way anybody could have. I'll be fine.  
Sure, sure. I'm okay.  
Just gotta play it cool.

"Hey!"

Turn my head and it's the fucking pig from earlier.  
Oh god.  
Shit, shit, shit.  
Not good.

"Yeah?"  
"I thought you were going hunting. What happened?"  
"Oh! That. Well. Uh. I cancelled. Not feeling well, you see."  
"Where's your rifle?"  
"It was his rifle. I gave it to him. Gave it back to him."  
"Why did you have it to begin with?"  
"Practice. It's been awhile since I killed me some bears in cold blood."  
"I see. Carry on, then."

Speed walk away from him.  
Can't believe I made it out of that one.  
Smooth motherfucker, I am a smooth motherfucker.

* * *

Stuffing the key into the lock, I remember that the door is already unlocked.  
The lesbian is in there. So, I turn the knob and walk in.  
But the lesbian wasn't there.  
And my stuff? It's all over the place. A mess. And not like the mess it was before, no. A new mess. Mess within a mess.  
Someone's been rifling through shit.  
Desk overturned. Phone on the floor. It starts to ring.  
Hands shaking, I approach, and bend down to pick it up.  
Listen for a moment...

"Nack?"  
"Shadow?"  
"You recognized me this time. Good. I see you have done your job."  
"Uh. Yeah. Right. I took care of it."  
"Excellent. I'm sure you'll be wanting your payment, now?"  
"Yes. Yes, of course. You dropping it by?"  
"No. You'll need to come pick it up yourself."

* * *

Sure picked some place.  
It's out in the middle of the dead part of the city.  
Crumbled remains of old condemned factories yet to be torn down.  
Scour the dilapidated buildings for addresses until I find the one with the numbers that match the paper.  
Large warehouse. God knows what it used to be.  
Find an iron sliding door. Knock as hard as I can.  
No response.  
Force it open with all my strength. Rusty door grinding against the track it's on, a loud metallic groan.  
Darkness.  
Light my Zippo and step in.

"Hello?"

Make my way towards what I think is the center of this place.  
This place is so huge, I'm not catching any surroundings. The glow of the light just fades into darkness.  
Suddenly, I hear the door slam behind me, and the light goes out.  
Oh shit.  
Oh fuck.

"Hello?"  
"Welcome, Nack."  
"Heya, Shadow. Uh. Where the hell are you?"

A spotlight above me kicks on, shining a ring of light down around me.  
Bright. Hurts my eyes. I shield them with my forearm.

"I'm right here," he says, stepping into the circle.

"So," I ask, scratching my head, "why did you bring me all the way out here?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He just smiles at me, eyes wide and twinkling.

"I wanted to be discreet, my friend. After all, the queen is now dead, as well."

"Oh," I start stammering, "I know what you're thinking, but that wasn't me."

"I know, Nack." His expression doesn't change. He just keeps smiling at me. "Believe me. I know."

"So, uh.." Cough. Fold my arms across one another. "Where's my money?"

"Money?"

I've made a mistake.

"Yeah. My money."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"What is this?"

"This," he says, broadly gesturing with his arm, "is what I like to call writing history."

"What do you mean?"

"Your reward is much greater than money, Nack. You've been given immortality!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You will be remembered."

"Oh yeah? For what?"

"For killing the queen, of course. And their savior. Their god."

"What the fuck?"

"Your name will live on in history books for ages to come. Yes, you will indeed be immortal. You will indeed be remembered."

"You have got to be shitting me."

"No, Nack. I am not shitting you. You were the ideal candidate. Worthless, alcoholic, suicidal, no friends, no family. Not a soul to tell and even if you had, not a single one would believe you. You fit the profile."

"So, what now? You're going to turn me in?"

"I've already planted all the evidence I need to. Tied up all the loose ends. These are things you needn't worry about."

"Why kill the queen?"

"Mobotropolis is going to be running under new management from now on."

"Who?"

"I think I've told you enough. Besides, it's not like the knowledge would do you any good at any rate, because you're going to kill yourself."

"Oh, I am, am I?"

"Yes," another bad Sonic recolor says, stepping into the circle of light. This one's silver. "You're going to kill yourself."

Without even trying, my hand is moving.

Moving towards the gun on my belt.

Removing it from the holster.

I am not in control anymore.

The silver hedgehog's eyes are glowing green, and I can't take my eyes off them. I can't feel a thing.

I just stare into his bright green, glowing eyes.

The hammer clicks as I thumb it back.

And I can't stop laughing...


End file.
